Catching Up

My new evening ritual involves sitting in the upstairs hallway with a book, the light from the bathroom spilling out just enough to read. Not that I actually spend much time reading. No, I spend anywhere from 2 to 3 hours reminding Giuliana to go back to bed, putting her back in bed, rocking her and then putting her back in bed, chasing her around her room and then putting her back in bed, getting her more milk and then putting her back in bed. You get the idea. Last night I cleaned smeared Vaseline from her changing table, her legs, the floor, and then put her back to bed.

She, suddenly, doesn't sleep. It's been hot and our central AC is on the fritz. But this began before the hot weather. But it doesn't help. I blamed it on too long naps at my mother's but then Grandma was gone for a week and Giuliana didn't take a nap for 6 straight days. Still her nights were spent being chased back to bed. Some nights I finally fall into bed, exhausted from this new, unwelcome ritual, only to have her almost immediately crawling in beside me, her hot, wiggly little body smooshed against me despite the heat.

She is a wise little girl, though. She knows how infinitely cute she can be. "Giuliana, go back to bed," I state from my perch in the hallway as she peers out at me from the crack in her door. She yanks open the door and rushes to my side. She plants a big, wet kiss on my mouth and says, "Mommy, I wuv you!" Then she sits down and begins to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star," with hand motions, while I crack up, forgetting I'm supposed to be stern and consistent about ushering her back to bed.

I keep telling myself it's only a phase. She'll eventually go back to quietly winding down and settling in by herself. If it's not a phase, please don't tell me. I prefer to believe this won't last. I confess to getting pretty frustrated around hour two of this little game. I start saying things I don't like to hear myself say. "Giuliana, you HAVE TO go to bed. I've had enough." "Giuliana, you aren't listening to Mommy and you're being naughty. Now go to bed." I check myself, though. Usually after only a moment or two. And I go back and gently put her back in bed. Give her her 4 millionth kiss of the night, wish her sweet dreams...again. I don't want to yell. I don't want to punish her because she can't unwind. But I do want her to go to sleep. I do want to have at least an hour to myself at the end of the day.

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It's potty training time at our house. It probably should have been potty training time a month or two ago. Giuliana is more than ready. She talks about the potty. She sits on the potty. She asks, begs to sit on the potty. She hasn't actually done anything on the potty yet, but she begs to sit there, none the less. But I have been putting it off. When it's warmer, I've told myself. When she can run around the house in just a pull-up and a tee-shirt. When I have more time to spend pumping her full of liquids and parading her up to the bathroom all day. But really, I'm just procrastinating. I don't know how to start, how to help her understand what she's supposed to do, how to explain. I'm worried the newness will wear off quickly and then she will begin to protest spending 10-15 minutes sitting and looking at books, no matter how fun I try to make it. I'm sure she'll be trained by the time she's ready for college. But no promises.


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PS: Has it been nearly two months since I wrote even a "Hello" on here?? How can that be? I just needed a break, it seems. I had absolutely no desire, no guilt over not posting. But now? I miss you all. XOXO

Sleepless Nights

Posts have been few and far between on this little ol' blog lately. I'm sorry for that. To be truthful, I've just been too exhausted to contemplate writing. And, no, it's not pregnancy induced exhaustion (to stave off all those well-meaning but totally wrong comments.) The exhaustion? It stems from Giuliana's new nighttime pass time. Namely, running into our room two or three times a night between the hours of 2-4am for a little snuggle, a little chatter, a whole lot of wiggling and bed hogging. Toddler Sleep Regression. If it's not a real thing, I'm making it up and labeling it that anyway. It's real enough in our house.

It all began with her recent illness. We spent a lot of time curled up on Mommy and Daddy's bed, wrapping ourselves in the comforting accouterments of blankie, "nice piw-whoa" (her warmed up corn pillow to ease her aching ears), a sippy of orange juice or perhaps "cha-co-late milk", with Dora and Boots adventuring with pirates and super spies on DVD. If you are two, this is as good as it gets, apparently. I cuddled with her sweaty little body, warm pillow on my chest, her head on top of it, soothing her pain with whatever made her happy. And of course, most nights she either started or ended the night ensconced in the safety and comfort of our bed as I monitored her fevers and dosed her with all those medications at every un-Godly hour.

Now, she's all better. Much to her chagrin, I think. She has, since infancy, toted her Nana-made Blankie around with her wherever she goes. Now it is accompanied with Nice Pillow, her new best friend. She requests it at bed time, of course, and naptime (so we have to make sure it makes the trip to Grandma's house every day.) She wants it warmed and waiting for her during her TV time in the evening. And she drags it with her when she sneaks into our room in the wee small hours, Blankie clutched firmly in one hand, Nice Pillow in the other.

The dog is the first to hear her. Like an alarm bell, he jumps up from his position in the hall, long tail excitedly whacking back and forth between the walls, smacking doors and generally creating both a noisy racket and a gauntlet for G to wend through. She makes it, maybe suffering a few painful whips of the dog's tail to her face, and runs up to my side of the bed (lucky me, I sleep right next to the door.)

"Mommy! Mommydaddy bed, peeeeeeeeeeas? Mommydaddy bed!" She climbs up, blankie, nice pillow and all, usually kissing me and snuggling her head under my chin while she croons "Mommy, mommy" in a sweet little voice that makes it impossible for me to return her immediately to her bed. She knows my weak spots. I tell her it's still bed time. She can snuggle for a few minutes, but then she has to go back to bed. I tell her it's time to be quiet and go back to sleep. She buries herself between John and I, usually anything but quietly, making sure her blankie made the climb over my body with her, and telling me where she wants nice pillow positioned. Some nights I'm lucky and she falls right back to sleep. Most nights, though, she's chatty and wiggly.

"Giuliana, shush. It's bedtime. You need to be quiet."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Shhhhh."

Then she spends the next several minutes alternating between shushing herself and, if she can't contain it, whispering her chatter, eventually getting louder until I quiet her down again. After five or ten minutes of this I gather her up and tell her, "Ok, it's time to go back to bed now. It's still nighttime, you need to go back to sleep."

Generally she goes fairly willingly, often requesting some milk along the way. I have caved on that request a few times, usually after the second or third trek back to her bed with her. But mostly I try not to give in to this plea. I'm not entirely dumb. I don't want this nightly habit to escalate into a full-blown intricate routine that has me running all over the house at 3am every night. Sometimes, if she's really awake, I open one of her curtains so a little moonlight spills across her bed and tell her she can look at one of her books until she falls asleep. Eventually she succumbs and spends the rest of the night in her own bed, and I'm left to toss and turn as I try to do the same. Somehow, most of this entire scene is accompanied by the soundtrack of my husband snoring away blissfully unaware. Hrmph. What is it about the male genome that allows them to sleep through the squalls, cries, whispers, even wiggles of their offspring while we mothers wake up to the softest sneeze 30 feet away in another room?

So, dear readers, Kami is a tired mommy these days. You will forgive me for not keeping up with you all for a few weeks, yes? Thank you.